


I Love Pho King

by plumgal1899



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumgal1899/pseuds/plumgal1899
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss can't explain why her brief encounter with Peeta Mellark turns into an obsession, but she is powerless to stop it… Or the impulsive behavior he inspires. Modern Day A/U. EVERLARK!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love Pho King

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for Round 5 Day 5 of Prompts in Panem on tumblr. The prompt that inspired this was 'Peach Blossom: I am your captive.'
> 
> Special thanks to titania522 for betaing, and to gozips28 for being a great cheerleader! I am very grateful to have you both!!! :D
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at plumgal1899.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!!

“Lord, it’s slow tonight.” The sound of Rue’s voice distracts me from my absent minded task as she approaches the hostess stand behind me.

“Yeah, tell me about,” I sigh, pointing the butter knife in my right hand at the enormous pile of rolled silverware I have accumulated in an attempt to keep myself busy.

Rue pulls the plastic container of chop sticks closer to her and begins sticking them into the open end of the silverware sets stacked between us. We work together in companionable silence for several more minutes, during which nobody comes through the door, until the silverware bins are empty. This is why I like Rue. She doesn’t feel the need to fill every minute with mindless chatter- definitely a rarity amongst sixteen year old girls.

“So, Darius was asking me about you,” Rue finally says with a sly grin as we stack the silverware in a bin to carry back to the kitchen.

I roll my eyes at her, deciding that maybe she is a little more like the other girls her age than I thought. “Oh yeah? What was he asking?” I already know of course. Darius is the dishwasher, and the only employee here other than Rue who isn’t Vietnamese. He has been trying to get me to agree to go out with him for a while.

Rue tilts her head down and gives me a look from under her eyelashes, indicating that he was asking exactly what I knew he would be asking. “He wanted to know if you had a man, of course.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him you didn’t,” she says, smiling.

“Rue! You could’ve helped me out you, know. Aren’t girls supposed to look out for each other against unwanted advances?” I ask in exasperation.

“Well, I don’t see why it’s so unwanted,” she states matter-of-factly. “He is cute. He’s nice. Funny… A student just like you are. Why are you always shootin’ him down?”

I shake my head at her as I prop the full bin on my hip and walk toward the kitchen, not even dignifying her question with an answer as she follows behind me. The fact is, I am just not interested in Darius. I have not been interested in any guys for a long time… a really long time.

Three years in fact. Three long, lonely, _sexually frustrating_ years. But working two jobs on top of going to school full-time definitely puts a damper on my personal life. Not to mention the one and only guy I’ve ever been with, my high school boyfriend, Gale, left me feeling like guys and dating are more trouble than they’re worth. Gale never did anything to me that I couldn’t have done better myself. Besides, I never caught my vibrator in bed with my best friend, which is more than I can say for that dick head.

Thankfully I am diverted from the dark path my thoughts are headed down as I emerge from the kitchen to see a man waiting at the hostess stand. He is standing politely, observing the nearly empty restaurant and I have a brief moment to observe him as I approach. He is not exceptionally tall, but his nicely fitted dark jeans and light blue sweater reveal a lean, well-built frame. I’m guessing he must be on a date even though I don’t see a girl with him- his clothing clearly chosen with care, blonde curls arranged perfectly.

“Good evening,” I say, plastering my ‘customer’ smile on my face. “Thanks for wait-“ my voice falters embarrassingly as he turns toward me and I get my first good glimpse of his face.

I am immediately struck by the warm smile that slips just a bit as his eyes land on me. He recovers much more quickly than I do, however, and the generous smile is back by the time he responds. “No problem. My, uh, date isn’t here yet anyway, so I’m just waiting.” I feel somewhat transfixed by his lips as I watch him speak. His bottom lip generous, almost bordering on too full for a man… Almost but not quite.

I drag my gaze away from his mouth and immediately regret it, feeling my heart skitter when I encounter the clearest blue eyes I have ever seen. The effect is enhanced by lashes so long that they appear lush despite the fact that they are blonde, just a shade darker than his hair and his long straight brows.

What was that I was just thinking about not being interested in any guys? Because I think I may have to revise that stance after seeing this guy. He’s gorgeous. Not only beautiful, but also _really fucking hot._

It takes a concerted effort for me to actually make my brain start functioning past the running catalogue it is currently taking of everything that I find sexy about him. “So you need a table for two?” I manage to finally ask, forcibly tearing my eyes away from him and down to the nearly empty chart of the dining room.

“Yeah, I actually made a reservation,” he says with a soft chuckle as he looks back toward the dining room. “Thank god. Don’t know if I could’ve gotten a table otherwise.”

His lame joke actually elicits a rare laugh and genuine smile from me and I am surprised to see his smile slip slightly again. “So you must be, Mr. Mellark? Peeta?” I ask, noting that this is the one and only reservation on the book for tonight.

His only response is a slightly dazed nod, and before I can question his response too deeply we are interrupted by the tinkling of the little bell on the door, signaling the arrival of who could only be Peeta’s date. As she enters I take a moment to lament how utterly unfair the world is. This is the kind of girl that makes all the rest of us feel small and course and inadequate. And she is the antithesis of me in every way - tall, thin and statuesque, with long flowing honey blonde hair that cascades down her back in perfect loose curls. Her legs are long, her skirt is short, and her heels are high- so much so that she towers over Peeta a bit ridiculously as she approaches him.

“You must be Peeta,” she says, raking her eyes up and down his body brazenly as she extends her hand palm down and bent at the wrist, as though she expects him to kiss her hand.

It takes every ounce of will power I possess not to roll my eyes at the gesture, and I’m not actually even sure I succeed. Peeta grabs her hand and, rather than raising it to his lips as she expects, gives it an awkward little shake instead. I catch the laugh that burbles up in me just in time and it gets trapped in my nose as an ungraceful snort. Peeta glances at me briefly out of the corner of his eye and I can tell that he is just as amused by this exchange as I am.

“Glimmer, right?” he asks, his attention back on her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She plasters a smile on her heavily made-up face and I find myself repressing another laugh. _Glimmer? Seriously?_

I grab two menus and gesture for them to follow me, trying hard to not think too deeply about the sense of relief I feel as I realize that this is a blind date. A first date… _Maybe it will go horribly_ , I think ungraciously.

After I have seated them I hand over the menus and begin giving them the spiel about tonight’s specials. As I talk Glimmer is looking at the menu with a pinched look on her face, as though she finds something distasteful there, but Peeta keeps his eyes trained on me. I find it extremely distracting and try to avoid looking at him at all as I run through my memorized speech, but I still have the strangest sensation, like his eyes are burning through me.

“Okay, well let me know if you need anything. Dao will be your server tonight and she will be right with you,” I say finally, turning to leave.

“Thank you, um-“ Peeta responds, his tone expectant.

“Katniss.”

“Katniss,” he repeats, flashing that damn smile again. “Thank you, Katniss.”

I nod, diverting my gaze and scurrying back to the hostess stand, my heart hammering in my chest for no good reason. No good reason other than the fact that the sound of my name on his lips sent a jolt of heat through me that I haven’t felt in a long time. Or maybe ever.

I stand there, pretending I am looking over the reservation list when, in reality, I am actually straining to overhear Peeta and Glimmer’s awkward, first date small talk.

“This place is really small,” Glimmer says, and her tone makes it clear that it is a judgment and not an observation. I finally indulge in the eye roll I have been repressing since she arrived. _Yeah_ , I think, _that’s the way to win him over: let insulting his restaurant choice be your first topic of conversation._

“Yeah, it is a bit, I guess,” Peeta responds politely. “But I have been wanting to try it for a while. My gym is directly across the street. The name is really funny, so I figured the place deserves a shot, right?”

I smile to myself glad to see that Peeta appreciates my uncle’s little joke, but glancing over at them I see Glimmer staring at him blankly. This woman must be an idiot.

“I guess I don’t see what you mean,” she finally responds.

“Oh, um, it’s called Pho King, you know, like fuh-king… fucking…” he trails off and clears his throat awkwardly as she continues to just stare at him totally unamused.

I shake my head at the girl’s stupidity, satisfied that my hope for their date to crash and burn is coming true.

**XXXXX**  


A few days later I am back at my hostess stand, staring absently out the front door at the gym across the street, willing myself to stop thinking about the possibility that I will catch a glimpse of the hot blonde guy from the other night. _Peeta._ The name echoes through my mind for what seems like the millionth time in less than 72 hours.

This has become somewhat of a routine over the past few days. As long as the restaurant is busy I’m fine. But the moment there is a lull I find myself standing here, daydreaming like an idiot, reliving every moment from the other night.

I had been absolutely right about his date turning out terribly. In fact, it may have been the worst I can recall seeing in my time working here. And I have seen a lot of dates come through the door of this trendy, intimate restaurant. After the ridiculous girl had insulted the place, she went on to insist that she couldn’t understand anything Dao said, even though the waitress actually speaks English beautifully, and then spent the entire hour and a half they were here talking about herself. The one and only question she had asked Peeta about himself was what he did for a living, which she immediately dismissed as not being of interest once he told her he was a graduate student studying architecture. I have a feeling she would have been much more tuned-in if he had told her was working at a top firm. She definitely seems like the type of girl for whom money talks.

However, the girl’s disinterest in Peeta personally certainly did not stop her from appreciating him physically. After a few glasses of wine she was practically eye-fucking him (not that I could blame her). And her claim that she was too buzzed to drive home so he would have to take her was so transparent. Peeta had seemed somewhat exasperated as they were leaving, but, sure enough, when I left for the evening after closing there was a lone vehicle in the parking lot- a sporty little silver Audi with a sparkly pink high heel hanging from the rearview mirror.

The thought of him going home with her makes my stomach churn and I scold myself for my stupidity. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t know this guy at all, yet he has become like an obsession ever since that night. Any time my mind isn’t actively engaged in some other task it seems to wander to blue eyes and full lips, blond curls and long lashes.

And the worst part of being so captivated by him is that I have no idea why… or if I’ll ever even see him again.

When I told my roommate, Jo, about it she said that I just desperately need to get laid, which I suppose I can’t dispute given the fact that I wore out a brand new set of batteries when I got home after seeing him at the restaurant the other night. But it has to be more than that. Why this guy? Why this level of fixation with so little to go on? Why, with absolutely no logical reasoning, do I feel tethered to him by a bond that feels all the more real for its imperceptibility?

**XXXXX**

Nearly a week passes before I see him again. He still fills my thoughts and fantasies just as much as he ever did, but the wringing anticipation of seeing him that has been clawing at my belly is actually beginning to fade- or maybe I am just becoming so used to it that I don’t notice it anymore. Either way, I am totally unprepared for the way my heart slams in my chest and my stomach squeezes into a tight knot when he walks through the door on Friday night, right in the midst of our dinner rush.

Our small lobby is crowded by a family waiting to be seated so he politely picks his way through them to make it to the hostess stand. The first thing I notice is, of course, the irresistible smile that has haunted me for the past week. The second thing I notice is that he is clearly not dressed for dinner.

He’s wearing a tattered old university sweatshirt and a pair of basketball shorts that ride low on his hips. The hair at his temples and the back of his neck is damp, and his eyes look impossibly blue in contrast to his flushed face. God, he looks _good._ And there is no way I can control the heat that sweeps through me as it occurs to me why he looks so good all sweaty and red-faced.  

“Hey, Katniss,” he says when he finally makes it to me. I am already off balance, and this completely throws me. He _actually_ remembered my name. He said it like we are old friends. Like he actually _knows_ me and I am not just some girl who was working at the place where he happened to have dinner the other night.

“Hey, Peeta,” I return, trying to mimic his tone and failing miserably as my tone comes out somewhat breathless.

His mouth tilts up in a lopsided grin. “You remembered my name.” He actually sounds a bit awed by this and the effect of it is so cute that my already knotted stomach gives a sharp, pleasant twinge.

“You remembered mine first,” I murmur, blushing and glancing away.

Our awkward, cute moment is interrupted as Dao approaches the hostess stand to look over the reservation list and mark one of her tables as available. I grab a few menus to seat the waiting family but Dao takes them from me, giving me a knowing smile and a subtle nod toward Peeta. I blush again, finding it hard to work up the nerve to look back up at him as Dao leads the guests away.

Clearing my throat and screwing up my courage I meet his eyes and ask, “So, will you be needing a table for two again?” I am actually kind of proud of the sass I’m able to convey in my tone despite how nervous I am to be alone with him.

Peeta laughs, short but musical, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and looking down. “No,” he says decisively. “Just me tonight. Thank god.”

I try to keep a straight face, but can’t quite stop the sides of my mouth from quirking up. I let my eyes run over his clothes and quirk one eyebrow up at him. He gets the message.

“Oh, yeah. Right,” he says looking down at himself. “Um, I just came from the gym. Would it be possible to order something to-go?”

“Of course,” I answer, handing him a menu.

Just then a young couple enters and Peeta steps aside, looking over the menu as I greet them and lead them into the dining room. By the time I return Peeta is waiting for me and I quickly take his order and head back to a server station to enter it into the POS system. Dao stands beside me as I type in his order, her smirk from earlier still firmly in place.

“What?” I ask, a sharp edge to my tone.

She just shakes her head serenely and says, “Don’t worry. I tell them to take their time making it.” And then she saunters off into the kitchen with a spring in her step.

God am I that obvious? Dao has witnessed approximately twenty seconds of interaction between us and she can see my attraction to Peeta as plain as day. I wonder if everyone can tell… I wonder if _Peeta_ can tell.

Returning to the front of the restaurant I see that he seems to have made himself at home, leaning casually on the front ledge of my stand. “It should only take a few minutes,” I tell him.

“It’s fine. I’m in no hurry.” He smiles easily, looking for all the world like this is the only place he could possibly want to be right now. I feel another flush of heat run through me that settles between my legs. I decide that his smile is one that Jo would refer to as a ‘panty melter’ and I make a mental note to stop at the 24-hour drug store for more batteries on the way home.

I can barely even bring myself to look at Peeta, let alone actually figure out what to say to him. I am torn between being thrilled that the object of my week-long obsession is standing near, observing me expectantly, and wishing he would just go wait in one of the chairs off to the side of the lobby so that I can have a moment to collect myself.

The silence between us is beginning to feel tremendously awkward and Peeta is the one to finally break it. “So have you worked here for long, Katniss?”

  1. How have I never realized before now how much I love the sound of my own name. “Um, it only opened a year ago, but I have worked here since then. My uncle owns the place.”



“Really? A family business then?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“Yeah, my grandmother on my father’s side was from Vietnam. All of the recipes are hers.”

“That’s cool. My dad owns a bakery that I worked in all through high school and as an undergrad, so I get the family business thing.” My only response is an awkward nod and, thankfully, he continues, rendering my lack of social aptitude a little less obvious. “It’s kind of nice in a way, but working for family can be a pain in the ass too.”

“Yes!” I agree emphatically. “Whenever someone calls in, who do you think the first person they call is?”

Peeta laughs. “Try living above the business. I couldn’t even pretend I wasn’t around when dad needed help. He’d just come up to my room and tell me to get my ass downstairs.”

I nod, returning his smile shyly. “I’ll be grateful when I graduate next year and don’t have to deal with it anymore. And not just because of the family stuff. Working in food service is not what I want to be doing.”

He raises his eyebrows and looks toward the ceiling, indicating his understanding, but I realize how ungrateful I must sound. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like my job… I love Pho King!” I regret the words the second they are out of my mouth and flush dark red as Peeta’s head snaps toward me, eyes wide with surprise. He is trying hard to repress a laugh and I rush to explain, painfully flustered. “I mean… I love working here… at Pho King-“

He interrupts my awkward fumbling, his voice shaking with laughter. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’d love my job too if it was Pho King.”

“Oh, god,” I groan, leaning my elbows on the hostess stand and burying my face in my hands. Why do I have to be the most socially inept person on the planet?

“Katniss,” Peeta says, and a shock of awareness bolts through me as I feel him tug one of my wrists gently until I look up. From anybody else this would seem very forward, but somehow, coming from him I can’t feel anything other than a pleasant tingling sensation where his hand is putting slight pressure on my wrist. “It’s okay. I am just teasing you.”

“I know,” I grumble miserably. “I just can’t believe I said that.”

His eyes are still dancing with amusement and mischief when I finally bring myself to meet them again. Neither of us say anything and his mirth fades quickly. Instead we just stand there staring at each other for a moment and it feels as though the noisy restaurant falls away around us.  That feeling of connection, of being tethered that I have been experiencing for the past week is so strong right now, like it is palpable in the air around us. And I don’t know how, but I feel certain that Peeta feels it too.

Peeta is the first to look away as he becomes aware of an interruption in the form of Rue carrying his to-go order. She hands it over along with a black bill fold into which he slips some cash and hands it back, telling her it’s all set. I stand there, observing their exchange with a rising sense of panic as I realize he is about to leave and I have no way of knowing how long it will be until I see him again.

I don’t miss the way Rue raises her brows at me significantly as she turns her back to Peeta and heads off again.

“Okay, well um, I guess maybe I’ll see you around, Katniss.” His words seem hesitant, as though he’s not exactly sure what to say.

My only response is a jerky nod as the most ridiculous sense of disappointment crashes down around me. What was I expecting to happen exactly? _He came in to get dinner_ , I tell myself. _Nothing more._

“Well then… um, have a good evening.” He pauses for just a second, looking at me expectantly and, once again, I do nothing more than nod. Peeta offers me a small smile before he turns away and I can’t help but feel like I have let him down. I stand there stupidly, watching as he crosses the lobby and walks out the door, willing myself to do something, but the door has already closed behind him before I can make my voice work.

“ _Fuck…_ fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Of course I can get word out now that it is too late.

I am still struggling to tamp down my frustration and self-loathing a few minutes later when the front door swings open hard and Peeta marches through looking determined. He crosses the lobby directly to me and slaps his receipt on the counter in front of me. “Can I have your number?” he asks loudly.

I am still too surprised by this turn of events to know exactly what I am feeling, but it must be good as I cannot stop the broad grin that stretches across my face. I hastily scribble my number on the back of his receipt and slide it back to him.

“Good,” he says decisively and, clutching the receipt tightly, turns and marches out again, just as determined as before.

I know I am smiling giddily and I couldn’t care less as I become aware of Rue and Dao both staring at me from where they stand in the dining room, identical bemused expressions on their faces.

Not even twenty minutes later I hear my text tone go off and retrieve my phone from my purse, tucked away under my stand. I know who it is going to be from before I even look.

 _So did you actually give me your real number?,_ it reads.

Smiling, I take a moment to program his number in my phone before I tap out a response.

_K: yes, this is really Katniss ;)_

He responds immediately, sending off three rapid fire texts.

_P: good._

_P: well, I just wanted to tell you… you shouldn’t be embarrassed about what you said earlier_

_P: because Pho King is my favorite ;)_

I laugh to myself, considering how I should respond. I am not sure what sort of reckless impulse takes over me, but I am powerless to resist it. Before I can even contemplate the implications of what I am about to do I tap out my response. _I get off at 11:30. See you then?_

**XXXXX**

My stomach is tied in nervous knots throughout the rest of my shift so that, by the time I am leaving for the night, I actually feel slightly sick. I still can’t make sense of my actions. What the hell possessed me to tell him to meet me so brazenly? I know hardly anything about him- and the few things I _do_ know he doesn’t even know that I know.

Of course, he’ll be expecting one thing. A girl whose name you barely know invites you to hang out, late at night, after you basically tell her you like to fuck. What else is he supposed to expect? And the worst part is that I am _hoping_ that is where the night will lead. Why else would I have sent that reckless text message?

The fact is, I want him. After having my first love stomp on my heart like it meant nothing, and three subsequent years of not even feeling the slightest stirring of desire for anyone, Peeta just strolled casually into my life and turned everything upside down. I have no idea how or why, but I am certain that I am powerless to deny it… And, despite the fact that I am nervous, I don’t want to.

As I leave out the front door of the restaurant, letting Rue lock it behind me, I see an older model dark blue SUV idling directly in front of me. Peeta is staring forward with a slight frown on his face, drumming on the steering wheel. He actually looks a bit nervous too, and that, more than anything, is what propels me forward.

He must have been totally absorbed by his thoughts, because he doesn’t even notice me until I have opened the door and climbed into his car without being invited. “Hey-“ he starts, but I interrupt him quickly.

“I don’t do this,” I say emphatically, waving a finger to gesture between us.

He looks taken aback for a second. “You don’t do what?”

 _“This,”_ I repeat forcefully. “Tell guys I don’t know to meet me to do… whatever _this is.”_

“I don’t either!” he responds quickly. “I mean… I don’t even know what we _are_ doing here. You told me to show up here, remember?”

I sit back, willing my nerves to settle. “You took that Glimmer girl home the other night,” I finally say and am embarrassed to hear the petulance in my tone.

“I _dropped her off_ ,” he assures me. “I couldn’t just make her drive home when she was buzzed and asking for a ride. But I didn’t stay with her. I mean, did it _seem_ like I was interested in staying with her?”

“No,” I state. “But I know how guys are.”

He takes a little while to respond, and I feel certain that he is going to call this off because I am acting like some crazy jealous girl. “You don’t know how _I_ am,” he says simply looking directly into my eyes and I can see that he is sincere. I look down at my hands, embarrassed by my outburst.

“Look, Katniss,” he continues after a moment, “I like you… I haven’t stopped thinking about you for more than five minutes at a time since I first saw you the other night. I don’t even know if I could explain why- well, beyond the obvious fact that you’re gorgeous, but… I’ve actually gone to the gym every day this week, just hoping that I might catch a glimpse of you over here. That’s ridiculous isn’t-“

Whatever he was going to say is lost as I launch myself at him, instinct taking over as I grab his face and press my lips to his in a hard, ungraceful kiss. It has been so long since I’ve been with anybody that I feel totally inept, and our mouths just end up kind of mashed together awkwardly for a few seconds before Peeta recovers enough from his surprise to take the lead. And, _god_ , does it feel good when he does. Bringing his hands up to my face he pulls my head back just a little, keeping his eyes open so that when he presses a few soft, closed kisses to my lips I am transfixed by the warmth and reverence in his gaze.

We are turned awkwardly toward each other on the front bench seat of Peeta’s car, so he lets his hands skate down my neck then along the sides of my breasts lightly before trailing across my waist and settling on my hips. My whole body sings with excitement at his touch even through my clothes. I gasp as he tightens his grip on my hips and pulls me toward him until I comply with his unspoken plea and swing my right leg over to straddle his lap. We are so close like this- face to face, body to body- and I feel that rush of warmth seep through me again, more intense than ever as it lands between my legs in a pool of wet heat and aching longing.

I don’t even so much as hesitate as I roll my hips into his, seeking relief from the throbbing tenderness in my clit. We both groan loudly and Peeta’s hands bolt into my hair to drag my mouth back down to his for another kiss, this time open and frantic and wet. I continue to grind against him, somehow simultaneously loving the feeling of his hardness against me and frustrated with the need to feel more. With every surge forward we let our tongues sweep together, sliding against each other around the gasping breaths that we are not willing to part long enough to take.  

My lungs are burning by the time I finally give in to the need and, pulling the hair at Peeta’s nape roughly, separate our mouths to drag in a ragged breath. He is gasping too and I am not entirely sure if it is for need of oxygen or because I am still rolling my hips into him, riding him in a graphic imitation of what we both so clearly want right now.

“What are we doing, Katniss?” Peeta finally manages.

I moan as I feel his lips slide along the sensitive skin where my jaw meets my neck. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to stop.”

“Neither do I,” he says, voice muffled against my skin.

“Do you live close?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have roommates?”

“No.”

“Let’s go,” I intone breathlessly, pulling his face to mine for one more hard kiss before scrambling off his lap.

**XXXXX**

I might have actually been scared by the breakneck speed at which Peeta drove the short distance to his house if my senses weren’t entirely consumed by how turned on I am and how badly I just want to resume what we’ve started.

I take a moment to appreciate how good he looks as he fumbles with the keys in the lock of his apartment door. No longer in his gym clothes, he must have showered and changed because he is now wearing a dark blue Henley, faded and somewhat tattered jeans that look sexy as fuck riding low on his hips, and a pair of well-worn black Chuck Taylors. His hair is mussed up around his head and his face is adorably flushed. I experience a thrill of pleasure knowing that that is all my handy work.

We don’t even take a second to hesitate as he swings the door open and we stumble through. My arms immediately go around his neck and he wraps his around my back so tightly it almost hurts my ribs, but I cannot even begin to care as he walks me backward on my tiptoes, kissing me frantically. I feel my back hit the wall opposite the door hard and Peeta is immediately pressing his hips into mine. I part my legs slightly so that his erection presses into me just the right way so that we both gasp in satisfaction.

“Fuck, Katniss. I need you naked. Like now,” he murmurs against my lips. He leans up a little and rests his forearms on either side of the wall by my head, caging me with his body, his hot gaze boring directly into me.

My only response is to withdraw my arms from around him and reach down to untuck the red polo shirt of my work uniform and lift it over my head. He doesn’t move, just continues to watch me as I reach behind my back to unhook my black bra. Peeta brings his right arm down to the front of my bra, where it meets between my breasts, and pulls, sliding it down my arms. I shiver a little, both from the feel of the satiny straps sliding softly down my arms and from the intensity of his gaze as I am revealed to him. He looks almost awestruck and I don’t think I have ever felt more beautiful than I do in this moment, with this gorgeous man staring at me in captivated reverence.

My heart is thundering in my chest under his scrutiny and he finally gives way, removing his other hand from the wall and using both to cup my breasts as he leans down to lick one taut peak. I gasp and my back arches severely, only to retreat again as he takes my whole nipple in his mouth, sucking with firm pressure that causes my legs to shake and another rush of arousal to pool in my already impossibly wet panties.

He turns his attention to my other breast as his hands move down to the waistband of my tight, black pants. I kick my shoes off so that by the time he has unfastened them it only takes a few quick shimmies of my hips and they are cast aside, forgotten like my shirt and bra.

The second my pants are gone Peeta drops to his knees in front of me, pressing a kiss to the flat of my stomach just below my belly button and curling his fingers into the sides of my panties so that his knuckles dig into my hipbones slightly. I have to repress a subtle convulsion as he looks up me from where his face sits level with my pussy. He is asking permission, and I nod, totally powerless against my own need as my clit throbs for his attention.

He presses his lips to my belly again and murmurs, “You are so fucking beautiful,” into my skin as he drags my panties down my hips, letting them pool at my feet. I feel so exposed, standing completely naked in front of him while he is fully clothed, his face only inches from the most intimate part of me. I offer up a silent prayer of thanks that I just had a waxing appointment a few days ago.

I watch, transfixed as Peeta slides his right hand up the outside of my thigh and trails his index finger across my hip and pelvis until it rests right above my clit. I am practically trembling in anticipation as he finally brings it down, twisting his wrist so that his hand is at the right angle to trail his finger between my wet lips, the tip glancing briefly against my clit, causing me to cry out, before continuing down to slip inside of me.

I bring my hands to his head and let my fingers slide through his curls as he presses his face to my hipbone. I can only just make out the words he mutters on a tortured groan, muffled against my skin. “Fuck, Katniss. You are so wet… so tight.”

I don’t respond. I don’t want him to know that I have only been with one other person and that it was several years ago. Besides, I can barely string two coherent thoughts together as he begins flexing his finger inside me, thrusting it gently, in and out.

I feel Peeta’s free hand on the back of my right thigh, sliding down to rest on the back of my knee before raising it, causing my knee to bend upward and opening me to him completely. He raises my leg so that it rests on his left shoulder and his face is so close that I can feel his breath whisper across my wet clit when he speaks again. “I feel weird about knowing what you taste like before even knowing your last name.”

His words cause me to gasp and my hips buck forward of their own volition, but Peeta pulls his head back in time. His eyes are alight with excitement and mischief. “Everdeen,” I choke out. “It’s Everdeen.” And as though I have no control over my own actions my fingers tighten in his hair and pull his mouth to where I need him.

I feel like my whole world has been tilted on its axis as Peeta’s mouth closes on my clit in a gentle sucking motion. I can’t repress my shaking or the shuddering sobs that I am emitting. Nothing has ever felt this good. I cry out again as I feel him slip a second finger inside me and barely have time to adjust to the pleasant stretched feeling before he uses his free hand to open me further to allow his tongue unfettered access as it darts out in a series of fast licks that sends me reeling.

I am just beginning to think I can’t take anymore, my legs shaking so violently that I am bracing myself against Peeta’s shoulders and back for support, when he closes on my clit again, sucking much harder this time. I scream out, everything shattering around me in an explosion of feeling so intense I don’t know how I’ll recover.

I am still lost to the world when I become vaguely aware that both my feet are on the floor again and Peeta’s arms are around me, holding me up in a way that I am incapable of doing myself right now. He brings his lips to mine and I can feel that his are still wet with my arousal. He kisses me deeply, sweeping his tongue into my mouth so that I have no choice but to taste myself through him. The truly shocking part is that I don’t mind at all as I open even more, chasing his tongue with my own when he would retreat.

“Are you still with me?” he asks, breaking the kiss and sifting his fingers through my hair to release it from the loose braid. I nod, slowly and silently, and he chuckles. “Good. Because I think I might die if I don’t get inside of you right now.”

His words have the desired effect and I am roused back to the world of the living as I realize that, even though I’ve just had the most intense orgasm of my life, Peeta is probably still desperate for relief… And I desperately want to give it to him.

I press my mouth to his again in a hard, closed kiss as I reach for his shirt and unceremoniously rip it over his head. I reach for his jeans next but he stops me, grabbing my hips instead and hoisting me so that I can wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me like this the short distance to the living room, kicking off his shoes as he goes, and tosses me onto the couch, not even making an attempt at being gentle about it.

I am still bouncing from my fall as I prop myself up quickly so that by the time he is standing in front of me, I am right there, grappling with the fastening of his jeans and pulling his erection from his boxer briefs. I want my mouth on him so bad that I don’t even think to ask permission, but he stops me with a gentle hand in my hair before I can do more than deliver a soft kiss to the tip.

I look up questioningly and he gives me a sweeter version of ‘the panty melter.’ “God, you have no idea how bad I want that, but I want to fuck you right now and I won’t last three seconds with your mouth around me.”

I didn’t even know it was possible to be this excited, considering how hard I just came a few minutes ago, but I am totally lost to any sense of shame as I lay back on the couch and open my legs to Peeta in silent invitation. I don’t miss the shiver that goes through him as he sheds his jeans and boxers the rest of the way.

I quirk an eyebrow at him playfully as he, somewhat sheepishly, bends to retrieve a condom from the front pocket of his jeans. His smile seems way too shy for someone who is currently rolling on a condom, but it just acts to reaffirm all the reasons why I am here in the first place. He is so sexy and adorable, I didn’t stand a chance against it.

Our playfulness fades, however, as he lowers himself over me where I am reclined on the couch. He rolls his hips forward, letting me feel how hard he is and I moan, reaching between us to grab him and rubbing the head of his cock through my wetness a few times before positioning it at my entrance. Peeta needs no further invitation and he surges forward, filling me in one sharp thrust that pushes me along the length of the couch and forces a loud gasp from me.

“Fuck… sorry,” he murmurs into the skin of my neck, stilling to let me acclimate to his size.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, running my hands along his back and raising my legs so that they are wrapped high around his waist. “It feels so good.” When he still doesn’t move for a second I bring my hands up to sift through his curls and let my lips rest against his ear as I whisper, “I love fucking. Remember?”

My words work just as I’d hoped as he raises his head to look at me in surprise. I give him a wicked smile and he groans, burying his face back in my neck. “You are so fucking perfect.”

With that, he begins to move inside me and I can’t even begin to understand how I went three years without this, but I know on some level it wouldn’t be like this with anyone other than Peeta. The feeling of him moving in me, filling me, my walls tight and wet around him… it is all indescribably good.

Suddenly he reaches behind him and grabs first one, then the other, of my hands from where they are positioned smoothing along the muscles of his back. He props himself up with his left elbow above my head, using the leverage of his position to pound into me harder and faster. He uses his other hand to pin both of my hands above my head to the arm of the couch.

The combination of his harder thrusts and the thrill of having him hold me like this sends a thrill through me. It feels so right to be held by him like this, physically captive just as I have been held metaphorically captive since the first day I saw him. He meets my eyes directly as his hips begin slapping into mine with the increased force of his thrusts and I am so close I see every emotion I am feeling reflected back at me in his eyes. He is held totally in my thrall just as I am in his.

“So fucking perfect,” he repeats in a near growl, his eyes filled with lust and reverence and devotion. And that is all it takes. I come again, exploding around him in a wet rush and clenching walls and Peeta follows, his hand releasing my wrist to slide up and tangle with my fingers.

He collapses on top of me and I bring my legs up to wrap all the way around his waist as I feel him softening inside me. I have no desire to move. No desire to be anywhere other than right here, tethered to this man.

 


End file.
